


merry christmas (but i think i'll miss this one this year)

by throats



Series: beneath this low rise second city [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Relationships, F/M, Josephine Montilyet/Leliana - Freeform, kind of? i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 12:43:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8980207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/throats/pseuds/throats
Summary: "TFLN (392): does the cat ever just start yelling when you start jacking off?" Cullen watches Dorian's cat while Dorian goes home for Christmas. The neighbor is concerned.





	

**Author's Note:**

> a surprise christmas fic for [moonheist](http://archiveofourown.org/users/moonheist). basically, I stole all the asshole things our cats do and made Cullen's life miserable. this is my first fic in a whiiile and it's completely unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine and mine alone.

_you could stay at mine_

_a refuge from the cheerfulness_

 

_It’s not that bad_

 

_josephine’s sister is sleeping on your couch_

_and you said last night that she was trying to get you under the mistletoe the ambassador put under the bathroom door_

 

_Still not confirmed that was Josie_

 

_you ARE right that does seem to be… too sinister, even for her_

_the girlfriend?_

 

_You know Leliana hates it when you call her that_

_She’s plenty nice_

 

_that woman terrifies me_

_you said i could call her the girlfriend if i stopped calling her the spymaster_

_whatever._

_will you watch cory or not_

 

_Fine._

_But you owe me._

 

Dorian’s cat is an asshole. Cullen’s not entirely sure how Dorian has a cat, considering Dorian is the most self-involved person he knows. Though. Maybe Cullen’s forgetting how self-involved Dorian’s cat is. 

Sweet Maker, he’s already calling it a person. 

It’s not that bad, house-sitting for Dorian and taking care of Cory. Dorian’s apartment is _significantly_ nicer than Cullen’s shared apartment with Leliana and Josephine. Not that it’s a terrible place to live – it’s homey, comfortable. But three's a crowd, especially considering how… festive Josephine has gotten during the holiday season. 

Last year, he’d shared the house with Cassandra and Leliana. But Cassandra had taken a job in Val Royeaux and Leland’s girlfriend had moved in instead. She was very nice. It’s just that Cullen doesn’t need the reminder of how lonely he is. He thinks about it enough without any assistance, really. 

So Dorian’s apartment is the surprising refuge he’d been promised. Dorian’s been in Minrathous for nearly a week and has a month left of his sentence back home. Cullen spends his days off work at the bar fielding texts from Dorian, prepping for his next semester, and utilizing the expensive gym facilities in the basement Dorian’s never visited in the three years he’s lived in the building.

And he attempts to bond with Cory, who’s having none of it. 

Cullen grew up with dogs. He’s used to high energy, really. But with dogs you can _direct_ them. A dog that’s bouncing off the walls gets taken on a walk for a few hours, you play fetch or tug of war and then the dog is tired and it goes _to sleep_. 

Cory doesn’t seem to believe in the concept. 

The cat climbs _everything_. It knocks over Cullen’s drinks, claws at the television, climbs Dorian’s bookcases (knocking every single book off the shelf in the process), and even opens locked doors. 

Cullen thinks he can handle a good deal. He’s been trained to. Give him a mob of people ready to tear each other’s throats out, void, give him a mob of people _already_ tearing each other’s throats out – he can handle it. Give him a blood mage, demons, anything but this void-cursed cat and he’s got it handled. 

The cat _hates_ him. 

Even the single toy he’s seen the cat use in his few excursions to Dorian’s in the year they’ve been friends, Cory ignores.

It hates him. But it won’t leave him alone, either. When Cullen tries to go to the bathroom on the first night, the cat yowls outside the door for ten minutes, it’s tiny gray paw flapping under the door. He tries to talk it down, only to hear the _click_ of the door behind him. He turns and the bathroom door is open, the cat yelling loudly about it as it walks into the bathroom, jumps onto the counter and begins to swat at Dorian’s expensive-looking blinds.

So, yeah, not only is Cullen sleeping even _less_ than usual, but he’s going to the bathroom in public, too. 

The cat sits on the ledge of the bathtub while he showers, just watching him. It’s unsettling and awful. And he can’t even complain to Dorian about it because he’ll seem like an asshole. It had been _kind_ of Dorian to offer him a place to crash for the holidays. 

 

It escalates on Christmas, because of course it does. That's just Cullen's life. He wakes in the afternoon after a late shift at the bar, from a surprisingly _pleasant_ dream in what feels like ages. There’d been hands, a mouth on his – warmth, radiating from the base of his spine.  

Without thinking, Cullen works a hand under the waistband of his sweats. He’s half-hard, with mid-afternoon morning wood and he feels _comfortable_ , still warm with sleep and the memory of a phantom hand in his dream. His own hands are more calloused than those in his dream, but they’ll do.

His hips cant up into his hand and he turns his head to inhale sharply when the bed creaks with a redistribution of weight. 

Cullen opens his eyes immediately. 

Corypheus’s orange eyes stare into his. Cullen’s about to shout when the cat’s lips curl, revealing teeth that didn’t seem so sharp yesterday.

And the cat begins to yowl, louder than ever before, stepping onto his chest and walking directly across Cullen’s body to continue to yell on the other side of him.

Cullen’s hand is out of his pants immediately. He swats at the cat with his free hand, “Maker’s breath!” he shouts, rolling off the bed… and falls directly onto the floor.

There’s a soft _thud_ that follows his own, much louder _thud_ , and Corypheus lands on Cullen’s chest.

“Oh for the love of –“ Cullen shouts. The cat is heavier than he looked. And the cat’s _still_ yelling. “I’ve stopped!” he shouts. “I won’t do it again! Get off me!” 

He rolls over and the cat yowls as it scatters off his chest. “Sweet Maker, what the bloody fuck is _wrong with you_?” he’s still yelling over the cat’s howls as he pushes himself off the floor. 

That cat hisses at him from its perch on Dorian’s dresser in reply. 

It’s then that the pounding on the door begins. “Open the door!” comes a muffled female voice. “What’s going on in there?!”

Cullen spares the cat a look. “Now what have you done?” he hisses as the pounding and the shouting continues. Anxiety churns in his stomach, hot with shame and embarrassment, and tugs a shirt over his head. He thinks it might be the shirt from last night. He’s pretty sure he spilled beer on it. “Coming!” he shouts back.

As he walks out to the door, Cory follows him, twisting himself around Cullen’s legs as he walks, still yowling. The pounding still continues.

The voice on the other side of the door continues. “If you don’t open up in the next five –“

Cullen opens the door, using his leg to attempt to keep Cory from escaping.

“I’m calling animal control,” a young woman finishes, her voice going quiet as she takes in Cullen with wide, amber eyes. She’s a Dalish woman, her facial tattoos standing in dark contrast to her copper skin. She has about a thousand freckles, smattered across her nose and spreading across her cheeks.

Cullen blinks in surprise. He’s sure his ears are red. The back of his neck feels hot. She thought he was – that Cory’s howling was – “Oh _Maker’s breath_ ,” he manages, reaching to rub the back of his neck. “I’m not – I’m just –“

He shifts his weight and Corypheus takes the chance to run out of the apartment, brushing against Cullen’s calf with a loud mewl. 

The girl’s eyes seem to go even wider as she watches the cat make a break for it. “ _Delltash_ ,” she mutters under her breath and turns, chasing after the cat. Cullen follows her down the hall. 

She gathers the animal up quickly in her arms, muttering quietly to it. “ _Vherlin_ , what’s wrong?” Cullen hears her whisper, as she cradles the cat to her chest. Her hair falls out from its safe place, tucked behind one ear as she bends over.

“Thank you,” Cullen says, breathless. “I’m watching him for my best friend and we don’t get along and –“ his words come out in a nervous rush, that the girl takes in with wary eyes. She keeps the cat close to her chest, her fingers smoothing over the gray fur between its ears.

Cullen can hear the blighted creature purring. 

Maker’s breath. He sighs and he can feel her eyes on his. They’ve narrowed, the amber color quickly turning to that of a flame, now that she’s got the cat in her arms. He feels like shit. 

“I –“ Cullen rubs the back of his neck and begins to feel the flush creep back up his neck, over his ears. “I had dogs, as a kid. I don’t know why I made him so angry. I can’t even play with him.”

She raises an eyebrow, the line of her tattoo arching with it. The cat noses at her neck. “You had dogs,” she echoes dryly. “So you yelled at a cat.”

Cullen frowns. “I –“ he stammers, again (like an _idiot,_ shit he’s going to make this girl call animal control and then he’ll have to explain to Dorian why his cat was _seized by the police_ on _christmas_ and… shit). “Yes?”

“You’re lucky I know Dorian wouldn’t just leave this guy with a _completely_ incompetent asshole,” she says, scratching under Cory’s chin as she walks past Cullen and into Dorian’s apartment.

He stares after her. _Dorian?_ he thinks. His jaw might be slack. He blinks, trying to pull his head around it. Who is this woman? Why doesn’t he know her? And why didn’t Dorian ask _her_ to watch the cat if she already knew him?

Cullen follows her back into the apartment, his brow furrowing in thought. “I’m sorry?” he questions. 

The girl is moving around in Dorian’s apartment with ease. She sets Cory down on the counter and presses a _kiss_ to its head – Cullen hasn’t even been able to _touch_ the cat, what the fuck, seriously – and she begins to rummage in Dorian’s cabinets to withdraw a bag of treats.

“Corypheus,” she says, looking up to Cullen, as if confused about his question. The cat bumps its head into her hand, the one that holds the bag of treats. “Dorian adopted Corypheus from me. He was my foster.”

“Your foster,” Cullen echoes. He feels like someone’s spun him ‘round three times and smacked him in the face with a fish. 

She frowns, the corners of her mouth turning inward. Her brows inch closers together. “Yes,” she says, suspicion creeping into her voice. “I foster orphaned kittens… I –“ she pauses and sighs, suddenly. “Dorian didn’t tell you.” He notices how her lower lip seems to bow out when she talks. 

Cullen shakes his head. “Not about anything, apparently.”

The girl sighs again, nodding. She withdraws one treat from the bag and offers it to Cory. “I live next door. I told him to leave my number, if anyone was watching him when he went away…” she shakes her head and returns the bag of treats to the pantry. “I did it last year. I didn’t know why he didn’t ask me –“

“My roommates,” he says, before he can even plan out what he _wants_ to say, instead Cullen blurts out the first words that pop into his head. His neck heats and he rubs the back of his neck. “My roommates are together? I think Dorian wanted to give me an out…” he winces. Maker’s breath, he can’t talk today. “Y’know, of the couple-y stuff.”

The girl’s expression seems to shift while he speaks, softening. Her mouth eases out from its hard line as she relaxes. Her shoulders inch down. “Sounds like Dorian.” She reaches over and runs a hand down Cory’s back, her fingers scratching along the arch of the cat’s spine. “I’m Bellamy,” she adds, a slow and careful smile works its way across her mouth.

He blinks in surprise. “Cullen,” he manages and stiffly offers her his hand over the counter.

She exhales, the sound like half a laugh as she reaches over to take it. Her grip is sure, warm in his cold hands. But she doesn’t comment on them. “Nice to meet you. Sorry I accused you of animal abuse.” 

It’s _his_ turn to laugh and as he takes his hand from hers, he rubs the back of his neck again. “I, ah… probably deserve that. I get the impression I’m not well-suited to cats.”

The girl – _Bellamy_ – smiles again. “Dogs,” she says with a nod. “I remember.” There’s a beat of silence, as Bellamy scratches Cory’s back. Cullen watches her watch him, aware of the way her eyes take him in, he can feel the weight of her gaze on his mouth, where his scar cuts deep into his lip. He’s used to it. 

“You didn’t go home to them?” she asks suddenly.

Cullen’s surprise spreads its way across his face. “To who?”

“The dogs.”

Something in Cullen’s stomach twists. “Oh,” he replies, shaking his head and looking away. “No,” he answers quietly, his hand curling protectively around his neck. “They’re long gone.”

He doesn’t elaborate and begins to hate the guilty feeling that begins to gnaw on his stomach when the question reminds him of the voicemail he’s got waiting for him from Mia.

“Oh,” Bellamy says, soft. “I’m –“ he looks up. She’s blushing, pink tingeing her tawny skin. “Sorry.”

Cullen rubs the back of his neck harder and feels rather idiotic. “It’s alright,” he lies. “It’s been a very long time.” That’s true, at least. There’s another beat as he drops his hand from his neck and Bellamy rubs the underside of Cory’s chin.

“What about you?” Cullen hears himself asking before he can think better of it. “No foster kittens to spend Christmas with?”

She looks back up at him, blinking in surprise. “Not this year,” she says, quiet. Her eyes leave his quickly, looking away and refocusing on the cat. It bumps its head into her hand and begins to purr loudly. The sound is not unlike a lawn mower that’s got something stuck in a gear, a horrible, uneven rumble.

The corners of her mouth turn in and she runs a hand through her auburn hair. She pulls a lip between her teeth. Even her freckles look sad. The icy guilty feeling in Cullen’s stomach spreads. 

He walks closer to the counter. “If you want…” he starts, anxiety spreading out from his chest. “You _could_ help me watch Cory tonight,” he says, meeting Bellamy’s eyes. “I think I could use some pointers.”

She meets his gaze, the corner of her mouth turning up. Something like sunlight sparks in her eyes. “You seem like you could use the help,” she admits. 

 

It turns out he’s been using the toy wrong the entire week. It’s got batteries. It’s a mouse that runs around the house without Cullen having to even get involved in playing with the cat.

Which is pretty convenient, because he and Bellamy order Chinese and catch the end of _A Christmas Story_ on the television before they both discover a shared passion for _Bake Off._

He puts his arm over the back of the couch, stretching out the old twinge in his shoulder. She falls into the space against his side wordlessly. He drops his arm to fit around her slight shoulders and she doesn’t move away.

Bellamy exhales and falls asleep pressed against his chest around the sixth episode.

Her breath is even and Cullen feels like his heart has started to beat normally for the first time in a long time. 

He texts Dorian with his free hand as the bakers complete bread week. 

 

_You didn’t tell me you had a neighbor that fosters cats._

 

_oh I didn’t? how silly of me_


End file.
